Deep Conversation
by kitzlig
Summary: Draco has a dream, Harry is bored, what else is there to do but...talk it out


_The sky felt so close Draco could feel it closing in around him, almost claustrophobic feeling. but it was good. everything felt good. he was lying in an endless field of grass softer than any fur or silk he had the pleasure to touch - the pleasure was all his in this moment of bliss, as he looked down onto the beautiful face resting on his bared arm, their naked bodies pressing closer and closer, "Harry", he said..._

Draco's eyes shot open. He was unsure what disturbed him more, having an erotic dream about another boy, or having an erotic dream about _that_ boy. He lay there waiting for his heart to return to a regular pace, which didn't seem to be any time soon, he thought; his erection, too, was almost painful, but it's shameful cause overtook his mind. Draco was not gay. He knew he wasn't, and he wouldn't allow a fucked up dream to change anything.

He rolled over, knowing he wouldn't sleep easy, but thankful his dorm was empty this christmas.  
He was so hard.  
What was wrong with him? Harry? Harry Potter? Harry fucking Potter? Obviously, Draco decided, it was the amount of contact they'd endured lately, as the only 7th year students staying back his Christmas. And there weren't any girls either, not that he had his eye on any of them at all... 'Fuck don't say that, you'd shag any girl here any day', Draco thought to himself, insisted, urged the images of girls into mind, pushing Harry back to the repulsive sector in which he belonged. Harry's skin was soft. He'd brushed past him a few times after quidditch. It was smooth and warm and inviting. 'No. No no no.'

Draco rolled onto his stomach, painfully, and reached for his headphones. This was too fucked up to process tonight.

The lack of other students was getting to Harry too. Lack of any students, of any gender, lack of things to do in general. He regretted his 'personal growth' decision to stay at Hogwarts instead of the Burrow this winter, once the school was empty all he could do is read, eat, wank, fly (on good days), eat, wank, sleep, repeat. Draco was there too. Maybe he had no offers from friends this Christmas, considering the recent loss of parents. He was looking good lately though, despite being the same arrogant prick, Harry didn't mind stealing a stare when Draco walked away. Harry wasn't gay, nor straight, he just liked sex, in whatever delicious form presented itself, and right now all signs point to Draco.

The thick blond hair and sculpted shoulders had crossed Harry's mind before, maybe in the shower, alone in the dorm, when he had a spare moment; Harry was a growing boy, he had excess energy and a wandering imagination. But he knew Draco was a staunch bore and too conservative for a hook up, even if it weren't his long-time enemy.

Draco's dream felt so surreal, over the following days it hounded and consumed him mentally and now physically, he couldn't eat, he barely slept at all. The idea of being gay was torturing him, and the man of his dreams - 'fuck Draco no' - the man IN his dream being Harry Potter was tearing him up inside. No one was around to distract him, he couldn't go outside, he walked around the castle alone, hoping not to see Harry. Maybe he should see Harry? Maybe reaffirming that Harry was a twat would push those sexual, hot scenes from his mind. They were hot, so hot, Draco couldn't help continuing the dream further, imagining Harry's hands moving further down his torso and around his manhood, positioned over himself, he could control everything Harry did to him. It was taking over his mind. He was flustered and light headed for the last 3 days like some kind of terrible, sensual high.  
He left for Gryffindor tower.

"Uhh. Yes?" Said Harry, standing in his doorway.  
"Hi" Draco responded more like a question than a greeting. He felt powerless in his speech.  
"Potter. Harry...I think we should talk? Can we do that, you know, talk?"  
Harry's eyebrows were raised. He was just thinking about the boy standing before him, obviously not in this situation, but there was definitely something up with Draco.  
"Ah yeah I suppose so, do you wanna come in?" He moved aside and watched his guest move lightly through his room. Almost as if he were gliding, floating even, his movements were slow, mindless yet sleek, somehow. He wondered how this was happening.  
"Draco are you drunk?"  
Draco reclined on the bed opposite Harry's. He had started drinking earlier, out of boredom, but it musn't have been much.  
"Drunk? Not really, I mean, maybe, no?"

Harry sat down. He looked into Draco's eyes, perhaps he was being too forward, in any other situation he would be right.  
"Can I help you with something then?"  
"Well, you know, we could be friends now, it's all over, I'm a wizard, you're a wizard, I'm here, you're here..."  
"I see your point there"  
"Yeah." Draco had no idea what he was doing. He needed to come down off this high, Harry the cause and cure. "Harry." He could say that name all day.  
"Yes?"  
Harry leaned back on his elbows. He was horny, and confused.  
"Harry. Harry do you know about like dreams and, you know, signs and..." His voice was trailing off onto the same vacant route as his mind.  
"What?"  
"Um." Draco stood.  
He walked over to Harry, who looked so relaxed it was infuriating. He moved his legs either side of the boy and straddled his hips. He felt like this fit perfectly, like fate, or a puzzle.

Harry placed his hands on Draco's hips; he slid a hand up under the shirt and onto the creamy warm skin, so slowly, too slow perhaps, and Draco's eyes fluttered closed. He adjusted himself to sit upright, pulling Draco closer toward him, and removed the offending shirt. Those shoulders he had imagined on so many private occasions, were here in front of him, for the taking. He could push Draco down onto the bed and pound the life out of him all afternoon, of course, but this was an unusual encounter, and he wanted to savour it.

He placed his mouth on Draco's right pectoral muscle, just next the nipple, and sucked down almost to a bite. The feel of Harry's hands on his hips was almost too intense for him to handle, he squirmed and writhed and moaned against Harry's mouth; his tongue moved across to Draco's more sensitive nipple and continued to tease his guest. By now his hands were moving down into Draco's jeans, pushing him in closer to his groin and getting a better idea of what was to come. He decided the jeans needed to come off.

Harry moved to the right and lay Draco down, pulled the jeans from the boy's hips and threw them far, far away. He moved back on top. His own shirt was gone somewhere amidst the squirming and grinding, and his own pants soon followed, now all that lay between them were the heady lustful plans and an intense sexual tension. Someone needed to start fucking. Harry returned his hand to Draco's hip, pushing him down on the bed, and moved in between the smooth legs beneath him. Draco felt so good. So soft and warm, irresistible.

"Wait a minute." Harry leaned over to the side drawer and found his lube. He kneeled above Draco, squeezing lube into his hand and over his increasingly hard cock. This would be a first, for both he and Draco, he wanted to do it right, not that either of them knew what entailed, exactly. It felt right. He aligned his slick fingers with Draco's tight entrance, tight an understatement, but they both tried to relax - it felt right, so right, and Harry made sure it would stay that way, adding more lube and fingers in and out, the feeling unusual and almost surreal.  
"Does that feel good?"  
He could hardly answer, "Yeah", he breathed.

Neither could stand it any longer, Harry moved back closer to Draco, he pushed his fingers into that thick silver hair and bit down onto Draco's neck to hear that hissing moan he had longed for, and slid his painfully hard cock into Draco. The feeling was unreal, and for a moment they both wondered if they were still alive, if this was some kind of dream, or maybe death, or something of them all. Draco was arching up into Harry's chest, the pain was ignorable, the pleasure growing with each thrust, Harry's nails pressing into the smooth pale shoulders beneath him. He tried to keep his eyes open, watch the writhing expressions of the amazing man under him, but his eyes rolled back with ecstacy. He thrust in and out, there was a spot he knew on a man, somewhere, if he kept moving-  
"Ohh god uuh..."  
There it is.  
Harry lifted Draco's leg up higher, almost over his shoulder, and continued pushing down into him. Draco was right where he wanted him. He gripped the tense pale thigh in his hand, it would leave a dark bruise later, he imagined, a nice reminder. He breathed in the moans and filthy words pouring from Draco's mouth, campaigning into the tight, pleasuresome place inside Draco, until that familiar clenching shiver down up his spine.  
"Dray I'm gonna come-"

"This was a good talk." Draco was sated, and pleased. They were both exhausted and lying wherever they had collapsed, his legs still tangled with Harry's arms. He strained to move a little more left on the bed, but wrapped his arm under Harry's shoulder and encompassed his lover just as he had dreamed. This would be a good Christmas.


End file.
